


Closet Case

by Myllah



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Geralt is very done, Jaskier is baby, Jaskier made something mad, M/M, Yes a literal closet, i love these two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-19 06:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22006762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myllah/pseuds/Myllah
Summary: “You are too close.”“UH YEAH! It would be easier if you weren’t so goddamn huge!” Jaskier would normally appreciate this man’s largeness, hell he wrote an entire song dedicated to it, but right now he really wishes Geralt wasn’t a wall of muscle.Or: What happens when Jaskier pisses off the monsters and forces them to hide
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 30
Kudos: 1302





	Closet Case

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a sketch by the wonderfully talented @tsuyonpu on IG please follow them they're amazing!!

“Well… This went about as well as a zombie’s funeral.” Jaskier groans as he feels the handle dig into his back. 

“Those don’t exist.” Is all Geralt adds, grunting as he moves back as much as he can, making absolutely no progress.

“I know that, but I needed something to fit, since we clearly do not.” The bard says, pressing forward a little so his poor back could maybe not be crushed by Geralt’s sheer size, damn this hunk of a man. Who told him to be so fucking large?

“You are too close.” 

“UH YEAH! It would be easier if you weren’t so goddamn huge!” Jaskier would normally appreciate this man’s largeness, hell he wrote an entire song dedicated to it, but right now he really wishes Geralt wasn’t a wall of muscle.

“This is all your fault so put up with it.” Geralt moves forward and pins Jaskier against the door, glaring at him with those intense eyes of his and Jaskier honestly feels incredibly small at the moment, a small sound actually escapes him and he feels his brain short circuit for a moment before he hears the man’s words.

“Wait, what?? How is this even remotely my fault?!” Irritated, he hisses, glaring at the Witcher, wanting to smack some part of him but he cannot move his arms, no goddamn room in this godforsaken closet.

“You pissed it off, I had it under control but of course you needed to talk and make it mad.” As if to make his point, there’s a snarl echoing through the hall, making the two men stiffen.

Jaskier shivers, a small whimper escaping him because oh god it might sort of be his fault and he might die here, in a closet with a Witcher instead of in the arms of a beautiful dutchess. Tears start burning in his eyes, because this might really be it, at the hands of a horrid, stinky monster pressed against the man he helped make famous. Will Geralt die? Probably not, Geralt can’t die, he’s just too incredible for that. So probably just him, huh? Will Geralt bury him? Will he mourn? Or be glad for his absence? Too many questions. The young man is starting to shake as he hears loud, heavy steps and what seem like nails dragging along the bare stone of the mansion they walked in to cleanse. He supposes he did make it worse, he doesn’t even know why he followed Geralt in, was he so sure the man would protect him? The steps come closer and he sobs gently, wanting to stifle them so he buries his face in Geralt’s chest, earning a confused grunt, really could this man spare him no words?

“Stop that, we’ll be found.” Geralt orders him in a low voice and the hairs on the back of Jaskier’s neck stand on end. If that’s the fault of the beast or the Witcher’s tone is anyone’s guess. But really, shouldn’t he be nicer in Jaskier’s final moments?  
“I can’t...” He mumbles, a sniffle joining him and god, could he look more like a fool? He will die crying like a lost child, how pathetic.

With another, irritated grunt, Geralt uses the limited space to pull Jaskier into his arms, wrapping them around him, making the younger man give a confused gasp and look up at him, exactly as he needed him. Then he leans in and presses a kiss to his lips as the steps get closer, the scraping sounds like it’s right outside the door. Jaskier goes pliant, however, probably due to shock. Good, at least he won’t make any more sounds. 

As Geralt is about to pull away, he feels Jaskier’s lips working against his own, startling him now as the smaller man deepens the kiss, clinging to him. It leaves the man torn. The creature is still walking by and if he pulls away, it can have Jaskier making some sort of noise so pulling away is certainly not something he can do right now. So he gives in and lets the bard cling to him, he can feel the tears sliding down his cheeks still, the trembling of his lips and body that is pressing further against his own. Jaskier is terrified and if this helps then who is he to take that from him? 

Kissing a man is a bit of novelty for both so there’s some awkwardness to it, both men wanting to take charge of the kiss but it doesn’t last long when Jaskier melts at Geralt’s skill. It’s different, it’s heavy, desperate and… Good. Jaskier can’t even begin to compare to a man that is so much older than he is, so much more experienced and it’s not… Exactly bad to be the one receiving the attention, usually he’s the one making the effort to please all those in a court, be it on stage or in more… Private settings. But here? In this little closet in a cursed castle? He’s being comforted with a warm tongue and his body is shaking for an entirely different reason. He feels a moan rising in his throat and struggles to hold it back, not wanting to ruin the entire reason for the kiss.

The monster pulls away, wailing down another hall now and Jaskier hardly notices, though nothing escapes a Witcher’s acute hearing, so the dreaded happens. The kiss is broken, however, Jaskier’s legs had gone weak and as soon as Geralt lets go of him, the poor bard stumbles backwards, falling on the door, that opens and having the man tumble to the floor with a heavy thud of his body hitting the floor. He gasps for air as he feels his head spin still, from the kiss or the fall he will never reveal. 

The high pitched wail that comes from the other corridor alerts them both and Geralt takes a deep breath through his nose. “Fuck.” Is all he says before he picks up Jaskier by the collar and shoves him back in the closet, taking out his sword and readying himself for a confrontation.

As the sword clashes with the creature’s claws, Jaskier sobers up and places a hand over his mouth, mentally running through what had just happened and come to the realization that his obsession for this Witcher wasn’t all due to admiration… But something else entirely. Running his fingers through his swollen lips, the blood rushing to his face so quickly that he could hardly hear the fighting outside over the beat of his heart. “Fuck.”


End file.
